Читать книгу Banjo Man - June Titus - Страница 10

Chapter 5

Susan

Apalachicola, Florida, July 2009

Susan and Mac were already enjoying steaming cups of coffee when Harry showed up. The banjo man was obviously a regular at the restaurant, and the waitress brought him his coffee without asking.

As soon as Harry walked into the restaurant, he saw Susan and Mac and greeted them. He was direct, a quality Susan was beginning to get used to with the man.

“I’m a bit mixed up about you. There are things I have questioned and didn’t think I wanted to know the answers, but on the other hand, you might be able to relieve what has nagged at my brain for years.”

Susan cocked her eye at him but said nothing. He’ll get to it, I suppose.

The three ordered their breakfast; while waiting, Harry launched into the story of his banjo. “Seems like this salesman from the mountains, representing who he termed as ‘a famous luthier’ would come to Florida every year, stay for a while, and then return to get more instruments for the next year’s sales. His name was Luke Harvey. I think it was right before the First World War that he met my grandmother. This is where my story sometimes doesn’t make sense. Supposedly, they got married, but what I never understood was that Grandma’s last name was not Harvey. It was Lindsay. She was real young, maybe sixteen or seventeen, when Dad was born in 1922, so she would only have been twelve or thirteen in 1916. That’s the creepy part. Although I remember her well, she died when I was twelve, and I never asked her about Luke Harvey or any of that history. She didn’t talk much about him, other than the fact that he taught her to play the banjo and sing the songs. She taught Dad, and then he taught me.”

Susan glanced at Mac. He had a smirk on his face that she would like to wipe away. She wanted to know more. “Harry, is your dad lucid, good memory? Would it be appropriate to visit him?”

“He has more long-term memory than anyone I know but forgets people’s names. He calls all the women good-lookin’, and guys, he calls brother. He even calls me brother sometimes. As far as short-term memory deficit, it isn’t terrible. I notice the confusion if he’s tired or when he first wakes up. But yeah, I think he would love to talk to you, especially if you play banjo for him.”

“I don’t even have a banjo anymore. Sold it last year. I could probably get one at some pawnshop and fix it up. But Harry, if I’m going to play, I need a lightweight instrument. I had a resonator on the one I sold, and it was too heavy for me. That’s why I got rid of it. Even if I had removed the resonator, it would have been too heavy for me.”

“You did well on my White Ladye last night. But I’d never sell that beauty. I have another mountain banjo, much lighter, that you might be able to play. It’s fretted. I picked it up a couple of years ago. It isn’t old. Probably made in the last twenty years. I would be willing to sell it to you, if you are interested.”

“Have to see it and play it, of course. Mac?”

Mac shrugged. Although they had only just gotten married, he had already learned that when Susan had something on her mind, it would be useless to try and stop her. “How much are we talking about, Harry?”

“Two-fifty.”

“We’ll see.”

“I can pay for it myself, if it’s what I want!” Susan snapped at her groom, giving him the eye.

Mac grinned at Harry and shrugged.

After breakfast, the three walked back to Harry’s rooms. Susan was pleasantly surprised that his pad was neat as a pin, not a reflection of his appearance. Wonder if there is a Mrs. Harry. Does he have a girlfriend?

She asked. “A wife, Harry?”

“Not anymore.” End of conversation.

The banjo in question was similar to her grandfather’s work, but it was obviously a newly built one. She looked inside and saw that it was made by Hatfield, a Kentucky luthier. The work was good; it was easy to handle. She tuned it and played it as though she had been made for it and it, made for her. She dived into a vigorous rendition of “Cripple Creek.”

“Wow! I thought my banjer pickin’ days were over. Not with this little jewel!” She dug into her purse and handed him the two-fifty he’d asked for and hugged her new baby. Just like that.

She looked at Mac, and he was obviously pleased. “Good deal, babe. You got your banjo.”

As the newlyweds left his rooms, Harry looked after them. He muttered to himself, “Maybe I should go to St. Pete and look at birth records. Assuming is not enough. That woman has stirred up a pot I didn’t know was on the stove. And why did she have to ask if I’m married? Don’t like to think about it. Thinking of Gloria’s death rubs a sore spot that just doesn’t want to heal.”